Grace be a Lady (Love & War in Johnson County Book 1) (16 page)

Bull
stormed into his home, as gratified as a conquering knight returning to his
castle. Money was rolling in. An Italian gang trying to muscle in had been
raided by the police. He’d found a new source for cheap whiskey.

All
in a day’s work.

Impressed
with himself, he tossed his coat onto the hall table and yelled for attention.

“Hardy!
Marie, where is my boy?”

Marie
popped her head out of the den. “He is in here,
monsieur
, in front of
the fireplace. He is playing with the, um,” the maid scrambled for the right
words, “logs. Lincoln Logs.”

“Excellent.”
Bull shoved past the woman and strode to his son. “Good evening, Hardy.”

“Hello,
Daddy.” The little boy looked up from his pile of logs that had not yet formed
into any structure. “Will you play with me?”

“I
have a moment, my lad.” Bull stretched out on the rug on the opposite side of
the logs and pulled his pocket watch from his vest. Plenty of time. He did not
need to meet at the docks till nine. A minute with his son, a nap, dinner,
Charlene on his arm, and off they’d go to finalize some business. When he
finally laid his head on his pillow sometime before dawn, he’d be another
hundred thousand dollars richer.

Hardy
shoved a pile of logs to Bull, who absently stacked them. As his son babbled
away, Bull pondered the figures coming in from Fifteenth Street. He needed to
change out the whores in the Chicago House. Their numbers were way down. The
men were tired of them. New blood, that’s what the House—

“I’m
sorry, son, what did you say?” Surely, he hadn’t heard right.

“The
lady on the telephone said Mommy would be home soon. Do you know when?”

Bull
snapped a log in his hand. His teeth felt like iron spikes in his mouth.
“Marie!” he bellowed, rising to his feet. The maid rushed into the room, her
face a mask of fear. Good. Bull grabbed her arm. “Did my wife call here? Did
you speak with Mrs. Hendrick?”

Quaking,
the woman shook her head. “I don’t know. A woman called. She did not say her
name.”

“And
you let her speak to my son?”

Behind
them, Hardy burst in tears. Bull wanted to slap the kid across the room, but
took a deep breath and released Marie.

“I’m
sorry. I did not know,” the girl whined. “I thought it could be her. I did not
know she should not speak to him.”

“Shut
the kid up.” Livid, Bull marched across the hall into his study and slammed the
door. In two steps he was at his desk. He snatched the telegram from Misery’s
sheriff out of his pocket.

G.
Hendrick stopped here. Current whereabouts unknown. Sheriff, Misery, WY

Not
only was the telegram something-less-than-helpful, the sheriff had billed Bull
for it. He crumpled it up and launched it into his fireplace. As the flames
consumed the message, he wondered,
If Grace wasn’t in Misery, where had she gone?
She didn’t have enough money to start back to Chicago, did she?

He
realized his mistake in not giving the sheriff any notice of Grace’s arrival.
Worse, he hadn’t asked the lawman to keep tabs on her. He hadn’t thought it
would be necessary. In a town of a hundred people, Grace couldn’t simply
disappear.

However,
that was irrelevant. Bottom line, Bull didn’t know where Grace was.

And
that would not do.

The
group of ranch hands headed back to the Lazy H after the gala in Sheridan was a
sorry lot. Grace followed from the rear, listening to the cowboys commiserate
about the saloon they’d invaded after the
respectable
party was over.
While Thad and Adam had retired, Nick and the boys had painted the town.

She
could have laughed, watching them ride, alternately holding their heads and
their stomachs, moaning, groaning, and complaining about their poor choices. It
was proving to be a long journey . . . for them all.

Adam,
blessed with youth and energy, spent the first ten miles peppering Grace with
questions about Susanna. Where did they go? What did they do? Was she nice?
More lies tumbled out of Grace’s mouth.

Thad
had barely said two words to her when they’d saddled up back in Sheridan. Now,
with the road to the Diamond R coming up, it didn’t appear he would add
anything to the minor greetings from this morning. She supposed he was
embarrassed, figuring that Grace would have told Greg everything.

She
hung her head and sighed. What a mess, but it was better this way. Grace would
concentrate on earning her pay from Raney. She should have some money waiting
when she got back to the ranch, and then, in another month, another payment.
That would be enough to get her back to Chicago.

Thad
veered off from the group, looped around, and trotted up beside Grace, a
troubled groove in his brow.

“Did
your sister tell you anything about last night?”

Grace
shrugged. “Only that she did a little dancing.”

Thad
chewed on that for a moment. “That all?”

“Yep.”

“This
fella back in Chicago. Any chance she’ll go back to him?”

Grace
tapped her fingers on the saddle horn and realized, finally, she could tell the
pure, unadulterated truth about something. “She wants to get her . . .
belongings, but, after that, no matter what it takes,” Grace cut her eyes at
Thad, “she’s gonna slip away or die tryin’.”

“Slip
away? If she’s done with him, why not just divorce him?”

Like
she hadn’t run the scenario through her mind a thousand times. The mere use of
the word had gotten Grace her worst beating to date. Bull was always careful
not to strike her in the face, but anything below the neck was fair game, and
he knew how to play the game. Broken ribs, dislocated shoulders . . .

Grace
flinched and backed away from the memories. “If I—
she
—she ever served
Bull with papers, not only would he not sign them, he would come after her.”
Talk of Bull made the vast, empty hills suddenly eerie. She felt vulnerable . . .
and exposed. “Bull doesn’t believe in losing.”

“She
can’t hide from him the rest of her life. That’s no life at all.”

Irritation
flared in Grace. Thad Walker and his opinions. What did he know anyway? “I’ll
be sure to share your keen insight with my sister.”

Done
with the conversation, Grace moved to kick her horse, but Adam trotted up,
grinning like the Cheshire cat.

“Hey,
Thad, an hour one way or the other won’t make any difference. Let’s hit the
pools.”

Grace’s
stomach dropped to her stirrups. She knew exactly what pools Adam meant. Raney
had pointed them out the other day  . . . the hot springs on the
edge of her property. Grace had longed to visit them, but was afraid of being
caught in a compromising situation.

“I
don’t know, Adam . . .” Thad swished his reins back and forth.
“Pa’s expecting us by suppertime.” But Grace heard the resolve in his voice
softening to the temptation of warm, bubbly water. “We don’t have to stay long,
I guess.”

Adam
whooped and hollered to the other men, “Let’s go, boys!”

The
men kicked their horses into gallops and followed after Adam. They left the
road and high-tailed it across an open, rolling hill.

Chuckling,
Thad looked at Grace. He opened his mouth to speak, but bit it off. “You’re as
white as a weddin’ gown.”

“I
told you I don’t like to swim.” Panic laced her voice.
Calm down
, she
scolded.
Calm down.

He
sucked on his cheek and eyed her suspiciously. “That’s not gonna wash this
time. Granted, you might not be fond of water, but these pools are the size of
big bath tubs and about as deep. So what are you really afraid of?”

His
eyes were more of gun metal blue now, and they carried a warning: no more lies.
But she couldn’t tell him the truth. “I . . .”

He
leaned forward attentively.

“I . . .”
she licked her lips, “I . . .” The idea struck her like a
lightning bolt and the lie gushed out. “I have a scar. A terrible scar.”

His
brow arched with surprise. “That’s not such a—”

“I’m
embarrassed by it. And I don’t want you and the others to rib me over it.”

Thad
lifted his hat and set it back down, as if the action helped him think. “I would
say you’re among friends, but they
can
be a might childish. Trampas,
just plain mean.” He thought a moment longer then turned his horse to follow
the others. “Come on.”

Grace
recoiled. “I’m not going.”

He
pulled the reins up, spun his horse around to her. An impish grin flirted with
his lips and that wonderful dimple appeared. “You trust me, kid?”

She
searched his face, debating, but, in truth, Grace knew the answer. “Yeah.”

He
beamed with satisfaction. “Then come on.”

He
kicked his horse to a gallop and Grace followed.

In
mere minutes they crested a hill and she saw the cowboys’ horses tied to trees,
and men flinging off their clothes.

“I
can’t do this,” she whispered breathlessly, but Thad charged right in among
them. Compelled, because she didn’t know how to get out of this, Grace trailed
behind.

Down
in the hollow where the pools were located, thick steam rose from each circle
of water. Thad dismounted and winked at Grace. “Take off your boots and your
coat.”

Puzzled,
but willing to go on a little faith, she climbed down and removed the items,
draping her coat over her saddle horn.

“Socks,
too.” He pointed at her feet.

She
noticed the men watching her, and was horrified to realize they were in various
stages of undress. She quickly bent over to hide her shock, and saw Adams’ bare
legs on the other side of her horse.

Naked?
They’re all going naked as jaybirds?

She
knew her eyes had to be the size of half-dollars. Panic choked her reason. Thad
reached over and snatched the sock off her raised foot. Cold air chilled her
toes. Without any warning, he tossed her over his shoulder, snatched off her
other sock, and started walking.

“Put
me down, Thad Walker!” Grace kicked and yelled, trying her best not to squeal
like a girl. The hands exploded with laughter. Naked, they pointed and
guffawed. She was horrified. She squeezed her eyes shut, mortified. Did these
men—or just men in general—have no shame?

Thad
tossed Grace, and she landed with a splash in shocking, breath-stealing
hot
water.
She sputtered and splashed and found her feet and stood. The water came to her
chest . . . and felt absolutely glorious.

She
sought out Thad, but the steam from the pool was so thick she could barely make
out his shadow nearby.

“Welcome
to Wyoming, Greg,” he yelled, sounding positively exuberant.

More
raucous laughter. Shadows appeared behind Thad, moving, sailing through the
air. She scrubbed her face with water to avoid seeing the bodies that flew at
her. The sound of splashes and whooping and hollering circulated all around
her. The water in her pool sloshed violently. Good grief, they were in here
with her!

“Just
a little initiation.”

Grace
opened one eye and peeked in the direction of Thad’s voice. He had squatted
down on the edge of the pool. The steam moved and undulated around him,
obscuring him, intermittently.

“Give
me your clothes and I’ll lay ’em out on the trees.”

Grace
boiled with fury. “You think that was funny? Trust me, you said. I’ll freeze to
death between here and Raney’s. Again.”

“I
sort of thought you’d be used to a dunkin’ by now.”

She
certainly preferred the hot water to the cold, but that was beside the point.
She moved closer to him and whispered through clenched teeth, “How am I
supposed to get
out
of the pool.”

“I
got you in. I’ll get you out.”